


Penguin Extraction

by wali21



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Penguins, Pining Eames (Inception), Post-Inception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wali21/pseuds/wali21
Summary: Dom takes Phillipa for a nice day at the zoo. Something goes wrong.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 47





	Penguin Extraction

**Author's Note:**

> Beta’d by [storm_of_sharp_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things). Thank you SO much! You are THE BEST! <3 
> 
> Cheered on by the writing channel in slack, thank you all! 
> 
> My first Inception fic, super nervous. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! <3 to you for even opening this. Thank you.

“Daddy, please can we go to the zoo?” Phillipa asks, insistently tugging on Dom’s sleeve.

He looks down at his daughter, her earnest eyes looking back. Dom sighs, unable to deny his little girl anything, he pats her on the head, long pieces of hair pull away from her scalp, electrically charged strands creating a course web. He gentle brushes them back down, smoothing the errant strands and patting Phillipa on the head once more.

“Of course, sweetie. Go get your jacket,” Dom replies, smiling at her.

She rushes off upstairs, socked feet thumping softly against the carpet. Dom grabs his jacket, struggling into the arms. He’s going to have to buy a new jacket one of these days, he thinks. He grabs the keys from their bowl on the counter, stuffs the wallet sitting next to it in his back pocket, before standing there unsure of what he’s missing.

Phillipa stomps down the stairs, jacket covering her small frame. She looks up at Dom, a smile on her face.

“Can we go now, Daddy?”

She rushes over, her little hand grabbing for Dom’s. He smiles down at her, letting her wrap her little fingers around his.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until your brother gets home?” Dom asks once more.

“No! I wanna go now. You said we could do whatever I want,” Phillipa responds, pout forming on her lips and wetness beginning to pool in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, don’t cry, Phillipa. We’ll go right now, okay?” Dom placates his daughter, tugging her towards the front door.

Phillipa’s face brightens, skipping towards the door. Dom checks to make sure he didn’t forget anything, taking one last look around the house. He flicks off the lights and pulls open the door.

“Wait, wait! What about the camera, Daddy? I wanna take pictures!” Phillipa asks, pulling away from Dom’s grip and running back to the kitchen.

“Okay, but be careful with it,” Dom responds, waiting by the door as his daughter grabs the camera.

She rushes back into the room, feet sliding across the hardwood floor. Phillipa hands the camera to Dom, letting him take it.

“Don’t forget your shoes, Phillipa,” Dom reminds her.

She bends down, slipping on her purple sneakers and tying the laces. Phillipa jumps back up once she’s done with her shoes, rushing back over to the door and threading her little fingers with Dom’s again.

They head to the zoo.

***

When they get to the zoo, Dom pulls out his wallet, handing over his credit card. The prices must have gone up because he doesn’t remember ever paying this much just to see some animals. But then he sees how exuberant his little girl is at the prospect of getting to see all the animals and a part of him that he will refuse to believe became mushy in the years since he became a dad, pays without another thought.

They walk through the zoo hand in hand; watching as the monkeys jump from branch to branch, the lions roam back and forth in front of the bars keeping them trapped, and the peacocks roam around like they own the place.

They walk farther and farther, passing all the animals, some coming towards the fences to scrutinize the weird things on two legs, some just minding their own business, nothing that exciting to Dom, but the kids all around love it.

“Daddy, Daddy, look! It’s Uncle Eames and Uncle Arthur,” Phillipa shouts excitedly, tugging on Dom’s pant leg. Dom’s head snaps up, looking right and left for signs of them.

He sees nothing.

He looks down at Phillipa, watching as she bounces up and down. “Phillipa, where do you see Uncle Arthur and Uncle Eames?”

Phillipa twirls around, stopping in front of her father. “Right there, silly!” She points.

Dom’s eyes follow the line of her arm, his eyes rising to search for them. He still sees no sign of Arthur or Eames.

He glances down at his daughter, crouching down, wondering if she is playing some game that he unknowingly became a part of and has no idea how to play. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses a black figure moving towards another shape. His eyes snap to the two figures, all dressed up in black and white feathers.

Dom sneaks a look at Phillipa, noticing that her finger is still pointed in the direction from before.

Pointed right at the two figures.

The two figures that happen to be penguins.

He squints.

It takes a second but then out of nowhere, a laugh bubbles up from within him, spilling forth in a gruff voice.

Once he catches his breath, Dom walks over to the wall incasing the penguins, watching as Phillipa presses her little nose to the glass, enraptured by the two penguins.

The penguins are standing next to each other, the one on the right standing up proudly, the other waddles away from the other, tripping into the small pool. It floats to the surface, flipping itself over and starring at the sky. It’s an odd site, but Dom can’t take his eyes off of it.

The first penguin cocks its head to the side, assessing the penguin in the water. It turns back around, shaking its head.

“Can we take them home, Daddy?”

Dom has no idea what to say.

***

What the fuck is he going to do with two penguins?

And where is he going to put them? Do they need like more than some water? Would tap water work?

Maybe a swimming pool would work best. Cobb doesn’t have a swimming pool. Did he need to buy fish? Could they eat like lettuce? Wait, Cobb doesn’t have lettuce either.

Mission ‘Kidnap Uncle Arthur and Uncle Eames’ would commence at oh four hundred.

Dom shakes his head, tucking in James and Phillipa. He could already tell this was going to be one of the hardest extractions he will ever have to pull off.

***

It is a beautiful, sunny day, the air filled with the smell of fresh flowers, a breezy wind that is nice instead of chilly. The quintessential Southern California day.

Eames can hear the waves crashing on the beach, can see the house in the distance, smell the fresh salt water on his tongue, and taste the remnants from the ice cream he licked while walking on coarse sand. It’s all very picturesque and lovely.

The kind of place Mal would have loved. Or maybe hated. Always hard to tell when it came to Mal. But Eames thinks she would have loved it. She was a romantic at heart, just like a certain Point Man he knows. It’s not a wonder they were such fast friends.

The sand in his toes and the half-melted ice cream that he hasn’t bothered actually eating, drip, drip, dripping down his hand, the salt water splashing his ankles; he likes where Cobb lives now. It was a good change.

Plus he gets to wear the very best in board shorts, funky tanks, and those floppy things he puts on his feet.

Eames really needs to come to the States more often for pleasure. He misses the oceans here, misses the people watching: the ones that might seem the fakest, acting their most honest selves.

The eccentric elite with their fancy dinner parties, fancy little dogs, and fancier artworks. So easily liberated and replaced with a forgery.

Hmm, maybe he’ll dabble a bit with the influential and vapid while he is in town. Always makes for a good time swindling a few people in the art world.

When Eames thinks of California, he thinks of Arthur. Well, he seems to spend an inordinately troublesome amount of time thinking of Arthur anyway. But especially when he is in California.

The Arthur here wears jeans and light sweaters, glasses obscuring those mesmerizing eyes, hair all curly and loose around his cheekbones. The Arthur very few know about. He misses him.

It’s like Arthur has a persona for each new city he dwells in. And of course his professional Arthurian persona.

Eames wants to know which one is the real Arthur.

Dig deep to find the truth of his Arthur. Or maybe they all are. Eames only ever sees that calm, laidback Arthur when he’s here in California though.

Eames misses what he thinks of as _his_ Arthur.

Not that he doesn’t love the three-piece suits and the buttoned up outfits, but there is just something about the way Arthur wears a geeky yet ironic t-shirt and jeans, hair down and looking nothing like the Point Man he is at work, that makes Eames’ heart skip a beat.

Not that he will ever tell him that. Unless it’s a joke. He can get away with a ‘darling’ here and there. But trying anything serious, asking for anything else and Eames’ heart will no doubt become broken. Too many times Eames has wanted to try anyway, screw the consequences.

But as Arthur has remarked on plenty of occasions when other team members have asked him out, they all got a resounding ‘no, thank you’ because Arthur is a professional and doesn’t allow those two sides of his life to intertwine. And Eames understands and respects that.

Their work isn’t always the safest.

And the way Arthur can go from ‘work’ Arthur to ‘uncle’ Arthur is one of those things that makes Eames so far gone on him.

He likes to think he is already part of both sides of Arthur’s life.

But maybe if he gave up dreamshare? Maybe then Arthur would give them a chance.

But maybe not.

And Eames doesn’t think he could really give up dreaming anyway. But he’d do it for Arthur.

Basically, Eames has very little hope.

But sometimes, they’ll look at one another a certain way or touch for the briefest of moments and Eames feels like he’s just waiting for Arthur to make the first move. To say something that could take them from this precipice they’ve been standing on for years.

But he never does.

Maybe he’ll track down the illusive Point Man after this little visit anyway. Eames hard at work tailing someone that means something to him this time. It can be his fun task of the week since following Arthur is next to impossible. But Eames does love a challenge. Plus, he always seems to find Arthur.

Yet, that depth of feeling for Arthur, it almost makes Eames want to run in the other direction.

He’s afraid his feelings are getting in the way of his objectivity. Oh, hell, when is Eames going to be honest with himself and realize he has no objectivity when it comes to Arthur?

Thinking about his feelings for Arthur are getting him in a mood. He stumbles up the path, throwing out the half eaten ice cream, tongue flicking out and licking the remaining from his fingers and hand, heading off in the direction of the front of the Cobbs’ home.

And then all of Eames plans go out the window, quite like always when it comes to his darling.

Arthur strides up the Cobbs’ walkway like he owns the place, two small wrapped parcels under his arm, phone in one hand and that stern look on his beautiful face. 

Arthur is all suited up in a lovely three piece number that makes Eames want to do unspeakable things to Arthur in it.

Not that Eames doesn’t always want to take Arthur apart so slowly, give in to his need to touch and taste and be with Arthur, it’s just that those bespoke suits of his make his hands extra itchy to reach out and touch, even just to skim over the textured material, leaving the impression of his fingers lingering over striped silk.

But Eames is here for a reason. He thinks. Oh yes. To see Pippa and James. And because he is bored. And now because he wants to see Arthur. And whatever the hell Cobb called him here to do.

Better not be a job. He wouldn’t work with Cobb again even with a gun to his head or a million dollars in his account. Not that it’d matter, Arthur would never let it get that far.

Cobb comes bustling out of his front door. Like he was waiting for them. That can’t be troubling at all.

“Good, good, you’re both here,” Cobb expounds, quickly. 

Arthur and Eames exchange a glance. Eames’ arm automatically jerking like he’s wanting to reach for a gun that’s not there. Eames wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur is carrying, but Eames tries not to when he comes to visit Pippa and James. At least nothing more than a knife or two.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Cobb leads them through the house and into the medium-sized backyard area overlooking the clear, blue ocean with its calm swells and crisp saltiness.

Where something is very, very, very wrong.

***

Eames isn’t sure what’s worse, the PASIV lying on the table, the set of blocks formed into a maze, or the two birdies splashing around in excitement while fighting over what appears to be a fish. 

Arthur stands in the doorway to the backyard, arms loosely held by his sides. Eames is standing over his shoulder, resting the lightest touch to Arthur’s lower back, giving support if needed.

Also, checking if Arthur is packing his standard Glock.

He is. 

That both reassures Eames and makes him surprisingly fear for Cobb’s safety.

He doesn’t see Pippa or James around at all. Which is also worrisome.

“Hey, Cobb, where are the children?”

“Phillipa is out with friends and James is upstairs taking a nap. Phillipa will be back for dinner,” Cobb responds absentmindedly to Eames.

Arthur is quietly standing there, taking in the scene.

Then, suddenly, the laid-back, still and silent Arthur is gone.

“Cobb, you have lost your fucking mind! Again!” Arthur bellows, stepping forward to get into Cobb’s face.

He shoves the gifts and phone into Eames’ hands and starts stalking Cobb down his deck steps and across his lawn.

“Now, Arthur, calm down. It’s nothing serious,” Dom stresses. “Just a little trouble maybe.”

“‘Just a little trouble?’ ‘Nothing serious?’ Are you kidding me?” Arthur exclaims. “You don’t call both Eames and I in on ‘nothing serious’ Dom.”

They fight back and forth; words dueling, Arthur’s preferred method of taking down Cobb’s ranting mind games. Eames doesn’t catch much of it, only half-listening to a fight he has probably hear a hundred times.

His mind is elsewhere. On more important things. Like Arthur.

Oh Arthur. Looking so lovely standing in the sunshine coming in through the trees, the wind letting a few strands escape the pomade slicking back his hair. He is a bit disappointed he doesn’t get California Arthur today but that dour little expression marring the corners of his sweet mouth make up for it.

Eames could get lost in those lips.

The way they part so slowly before he speaks. The way they form and shape words, either of encouragement or distrust or condensation. The way he can forge almost anything when Arthur asks with those lips of his.

He can just barely hear the delightful expressions Arthur would use; the little remarks about Eames frame maybe, the appreciation for his full lips, the coarseness of the hair on his arms.

The way Arthur would softly say his name right before kissing him tenderly.

Only in Eames’ dreams. The very best ones.

But nothing would compare to the real Arthur.

He’s such a softy for his Arthur.

The one currently handing Dom his ass, beaten and bruised, for the shit he has pulled now.

“This better be good, Cobb. We didn’t have an appointment or visit scheduled. What is this really about? And why is Eames here?” Arthur starts ranting. “We can talk about your other little problem later.” Arthur sweeps his arm out indicating the problem splashing around.

“And this had better not be about a job. You told me you quit.” Arthur states, confidently. He looks so commanding like this, like he expects his orders were followed to the letter.

Cobb stays silent just a little too long.

“You promised.” Arthur is scarily unmoving, not even a small breath passing from his lips while he waits for Dom to say something. Arthur’s ire is a bloody terrifying thing to see in person.

Cobb doesn’t say anything.

“You stupid fuck!” Arthur practically roars. He turns on his heel, stalking away from Cobb and Eames, hands by his sides, fists clenched.

Cobb is in for it now.

Eames is a little bit scared this is going to end in bloodshed. Arthur’s indignation seems to be effecting Cobb very little, just standing there apathetically. He never did have much self-preservation, the idiot ex-extractor.

“It’s not about a job, calm down, Arthur.”

Wrong thing to say, Cobb, oh wrong thing to say Eames thinks.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! You keep pulling this shit and you’ll be back out there with no one watching your back.”

Well, that answers if Arthur would be working with Cobb again if he came back to dreamshare. Eames is oddly relieved.

“Or in jail,” Arthur bites out.

“Or thinking the world isn’t real.”

He goes for the throat.

“No,” Dom whispers. “Never that.” Cobb puts his hand in one pocket, supposedly feeling for his new totem.

“You can’t know that. We agreed. No dreaming with the PASIV.”

“I know, Arthur,” Cobb responds, dejectedly.

“Have you been? Is that why you called me in the middle of the fucking afternoon? Need a pick-me-up? And need someone to watch the kids while Eames builds for you?” Arthur rages.

“No, Arthur, I have not been using the PASIV,” Cobb complains. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Then why is it out here? And what’s with the maze of blocks?”

“I just wanted to look at it. The PASIV. Remember, you know?” Cobb pleads.

Eames feels sorry for the poor bastard.

“The blocks, I’m just keeping busy.”

“Dom, you’re building. Even if it isn’t in dreams yet, this is dangerous. We talked about this.”

“I know, okay? But it’s not that easy.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be fucking easy.”

“Thanks for meddling but I’m fine.” Cobb states.

He’s obviously not fine.

Eames can’t really relate. Even if he did give up dreamsharing, he still has his waking world pursuits.

“Sorry if I actually give a damn about you, you asshole,” Arthur complains.

“I’m fine, Arthur,” Cobb stresses.

“Then why do you have two penguins in your backyard?” he exclaims. “That is _not fine_ , Dom.”

Cobb just shrugs his shoulders, not even looking a bit phased.

“Penguins! In a kiddy pool no less,” Arthur rants.

Eames worries for his blood pressure.

“I think they’re excellent, Cobb,” Eames finally speaks up.

Arthur shoots him a look that could kill a lesser man or at least one that’s never been on the other end of Arthur’s Glock.

“Is this why you really called?” he asks.

“I mean. Sort of?” Cobb responds.

Arthur tolerantly waits.

“What does that mean?” Eames asks.

“Uhh…Pippa wanted her uncles to come and visit?”

“Nice try, Cobb. I’m sure that’s true but what’s the real reason?”

Under his breath, “I don’t know what to do with them now.”

Arthur suppresses a smile. Eames doesn’t. He gives a great big laugh, turning towards the penguins and smiling at their adorableness.

This is so great. Cobb calling for help!

This is the best day ever.

Arthur looks less bothered now. More like the Arthur that Eames thinks of as _his_.

“I just came from a wine-tasting. Really exquisite Chateau Margaux. You would have hated it.” Arthur crosses his arms, just a little crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Smug.

So smug his Arthur.

But not the full blown crinkles, the beautiful way his face just lights up, little creases appearing, his eyes closing just enough.

Eames sighs quietly.

“Phillipa saw them at the zoo and begged me to bring them home.”

Arthur stares.

“And?”

“Arthur, c’mon I’m being a good dad, see?”

Arthur lets out a deep breath. “I feel like this was covered in the dossier I gave you on parenting.”

“Umm, yeah. Might have skimmed that.”

“Dom! I spent a lot of time on that.”

“It was 300 pages, Arthur! Single spaced! With too few graphs.”

Arthur just crosses his suit clad arms and legs, standing in silence, waiting.

“Yes, fine, I stole them. Are you happy? Geez, Arthur, live a little.”

“You stole them? Dom!”

“Don’t look at me like that, Arthur. I couldn’t say no to her.”

“Pushover,” Arthur replies, under his breath. 

“Hey, I wasn’t the one that took her to Disneyland because she wanted a hug from Goofy.”

“You leave Goofy out of this,” Arthur says mulishly, jabbing a finger into Cobb’s chest. 

“You have to return them.”

“Now.”

Cobb looks to Eames for help.

“Don’t look at me, mate. You made this mess.”

“Fuck you very much,” Cobb responds to Eames. 

“Can we please get back to the problem at hand?” Arthur sullenly complains.

“And what problem would that be dear Arthur?”

“The fact that Cobb has obviously gone insane again and stolen penguins. _In real life._ ”

“Please, pet, don’t tell me you never slipped a little something away from its original owners.”

“Shut up, Mr. Eames,” Arthur rolls his eyes, a bit of that smirk coming back. 

Arthur is enjoying this. Eames can tell.

Eames mouth twitches with a smirk. “I know you, darling.” Arthur looks away from Eames and back to Cobb.

“Return them.” Arthur demands.

“No.”

“Dom.” Uh oh, Arthur’s disappointed voice.

“Arthur.” And there goes Cobb with the Cobb voice. And the little eye squint.

Eames loves to make fun of the squinty Cobbness of that look. It’s free entertainment.

“Dom.”

“C’mon, Arthur. Look at them.” Arthur does not turn his head and look at the penguins. He just glares some more at Cobb. Eames loves it.

“They are quite adorable,” Eames chimes in. He can’t not. They _are_ adorable. Little feathery, flappy birdies all dressed up.

“Shut up, Mr. Eames,” Arthur says, longsuffering. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head the tiniest bit.

“I don’t know why you’re mad,” Cobb states. Arthur does not look impressed.

“Really, this is your fault,” Cobb retorts.

Yes! Eames is so ready for the fight this is going to cause. Arthur being all hot and angry and so lovely pointing his finger in Cobb’s face with that murder-y stare of his.

Arthur is silent for a moment. A long moment.

“Excuse me?” Arthur grits out between clenched teeth.

Eames smirks. Oh, this is going to be fun. So much fun.

At least for him. He’s practically bouncing on his toes. Arthur is extra sexy when he gets that angry murder-face going and wow is it happening a lot right now.

Cobb points to the penguins.

“Arthur, meet Arthur,” Cobb gestures to the penguin on the left.

“And Eames,” the penguin on the right.

Arthur blinks a few times. Then a few more. Eames thinks Cobb might have broken him.

Cobb is not allowed to break his Arthur.

“What?” Arthur finally asks, quietly.

“Phillipa named them after her uncles. It’s why I had to take them.”

“Steal, Dom. Not ‘take’. And don’t you dare blame your daughter for this, Dom. She’s just a child.”

“I know that. But you’ve seen her little pout. I couldn’t say no.”

“Yes, you could have, Dom! You’re the adult.”

Eames can’t believe Arthur went there. They both know how insecure Dom still is about handling the kids. Arthur must be pretty upset to bring it up.

“Supposedly.” Arthur says with derision. “Unless you forgot.”

Arthur looks so done with Cobb. Eames is exhilarated. And a little distressed for Dom. Which is a weird feeling.

A moment of silence.

“Again.”

Oh harsh. And there he goes again, back to being pissed off at Cobb. It’s one of Eames’ very favorite looks on Arthur.

Eames looks at the penguin that carries his name and smiles to himself. Not a bad looking fellow. Could use some color in his wardrobe but otherwise an overall nice appearing penguin. He wonders if it’d wear a tiny sweater. A light one because of the weather. Maybe in a beautiful paisley.

Arthur and Cobb keep bickering but quieter now. Eames pays no more attention. His namesake is waddling over to penguin Arthur, holding out his little flipper. It’s adorable. Penguin Arthur takes penguin Eames’ flipper with his and they waddle off towards the other end of the pool.

Eames sighs.

***

Eames hears a big bang and running steps down to where they stand in the cool breeze.

“Uncle, Eames!” Phillipa exclaims, running over and climbing into Eames’ arms.

“Pippa!” He spins her around a few times, and then sets her down.

She walks over to stand in front of Arthur.

“Arthur,” Phillipa says seriously.

“Phillipa,” Arthur inclines his head.

It’s this weird ritual they have. Eames has only seen it once before but Cobb loves to bemoan the fact that Phillipa loves Arthur the most. Eames doesn’t blame her one bit.

Arthur breaks first, a huge smile overcoming his beautiful face. Dimples making their full display.

Eames wants to see that smile forever.

Pippa jumps into Arthur’s open arms, giving him a big kiss on his smooth cheek.

“Did you see them, did you see them?” Pippa points over to the penguins.

“Yes, I did. They are very nice looking birds,” Arthur replies.

“C’mon, come here and pet them.”

Arthur grimaces.

“Actually, Phillipa, it’s time for dinner. Arthur can see the penguins afterward.”

“But dad -” Pippa tries to cajole.

“No. Later, honey.”

Arthur shoots Dom a quick thank you glance. Dom responds with a proud smile.

But Eames can tell Arthur isn’t looking forward to ‘later’. Probably knows his poor designer suit is going to get wet.

They go inside to eat.

***

Dinner is a boisterous affair with James fighting over the potatoes with Cobb and Pippa not wanting to eat anything on the table considered ‘kid’ food. Dom lets her eat and drink whatever she wants except the wine and passes that between Arthur and Eames. Eames pours a smidge in, swirling it around, before bringing to his lips.

It’s not bad but not good either.

Arthur passes the wine back to Dom without taking any. Oh Eames loves how snobby Arthur is with his wine.

A dinner at the Cobbs’ is quite the affair. And Eames love every minute of it. It has laughter and fun, a relaxed Dom, and an Arthur he can’t keep his eyes off of for more than a few minutes.

“Uncle Eames?”

“Hmm?”

“When I’m older can you teach me to forge into a penguin?”

“Sure, sprog.”

“What?!” Dom exclaims.

“What?” Eames replies, blandly.

Cobb just gives Eames his squinty-eyed look. Eames ignores him.

“And can we make them fly, Uncle Eames?”

“Sure, Pippa, whatever you want.”

He misses these days. Often, around the world, there is no time to stop by and have a chat and a day about with the kids. It’s always been job after job after job, with some gambling and drinking involved in between. Eames has never had a proper home. One that he can come back to unless you call what he has here with the Cobbs a type of home.

But no.

Eames considers Arthur his home. Or at least in his thoughts he is his home. 

It always has been like that since New York.

It’s why he works so much, why times between jobs with the most infamous Point Man in the business will always be the times without color and fun and the best moments of Eames’ life.

***

After dinner, Pippa wants to feed the penguins and pet them and just bask in the joy of them playing around in the kiddy pool.

“Don’t you want to pet them Uncle Arthur. Please? You can leave your suit jacket inside and then pet them.”

Arthur and Pippa talk quietly between themselves for a bit. Arthur discarding his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

Eames standing back and watching their six. Can never really be too careful with Arthur distracted.

Eames watches, lagging behind, as Pippa tugs Arthur closer to the penguins. Normally, Eames would be right there with them but he likes just taking time out to watch Arthur interact with Pippa and her slippery little friends.

It’s always been Eames thing.

People watching.

When he first met Arthur, it wasn’t the most auspicious of meetings, but he still couldn’t take his eyes away from the Point Man. Arthur just drew Eames in from that first moment.

It’s nice here, not having to hide anything, to just be himself. Or at least as unguarded as he can be near Arthur.

Pippa is jumping up and down, so excited to show Arthur the penguins. She hugs Arthur tightly when he lowers himself to her level. It’s a gentle and sweet moment.

Arthur really is her favorite.

Eames can’t refute her good taste.

***

Eventually, Eames catches up with them. Pippa yells for ‘Uncle Eames’ and Eames goes where he’s directed like a man wrapped around her little fingers.

“Come look at the penguins aren’t they adorable, Uncle Eames?”

“Uncle Arthur and Uncle Eames, this is penguin Arthur. And penguin Eames.”

“Nice to make your acquaintances,” Arthur gives a little nod to the penguins.

It might be the most adorable thing Eames has ever seen from Arthur. And he’d once seen Arthur rescue a kitten from a tree in a waistcoat and trousers without a hair out of place. 

“Hello, little birdies.” Eames gets closer, petting the one that’s called Arthur. It leans into his touch, rubbing its little feathers all over Eames’ fingers and trying to get out of the pool to be closer to him.

Eames melts.

“They just showed up this morning splashing around. Isn’t that the best?”

Pippa is so adorable. Eames watches as she goes up to the penguins and starts carefully stroking the backs of them. The Eames penguin tries to knick the shiny bracelet from Pippa’s wrist.

“I saw them at the zoo yesterday and knew they were the perfect match.”

When Eames looks back over his shoulder, Arthur is looking at Eames, smiling.

It seems to stop Eames heart for a moment.

Pippa keeps chatting about the penguins and selfies and how cute the four of them would be once Dad printed it out and put in on the refrigerator. “And Dad went to the store and got fish for them so they wouldn’t go hungry.”

Eames keeps petting the penguin, preening its back feathers and giving them special attention while still looking at Arthur.

“I think they’re happy, Uncle Eames. They have fish, and water to swim in, and each other.”

The two penguins tire of their humans, the Eames penguin making one last grab for the sparkly bracelet but instead moving farther back in the pool, starting to preen each other’s back feathers with their beaks. It seems to be a ritual they have.

Eames knows nothing of penguins but these two look quite close.

Pippa pulls on Eames’ shirt, looking up at him earnestly. “Can you take a selfie with them, Uncle Eames? Pleeeeeeese?”

“Sure, sure. Want me to take the photo?”

“No, just you and Uncle Arthur and the penguins, please?”

“Of course, love.”

“Darling?”

“Of course, Phillipa.”

He moves towards Eames, resting next to him and looking over his shoulder at the birds.

The penguins have moved closer to them, undoubtedly looking for more stroking. Eames gives them each a soft pet, then turns back to Pippa and her phone.

“Ready?”

Arthur and Eames both nod.

“No, not like that! Stand closer, like the penguins.”

The penguins are standing extremely close together. Eames doesn’t move.

But surprisingly Arthur does move into his personal space.

Or maybe not so surprising. They are doing it for Pippa after all. At least that’s what Eames is going with.

“Now, smile!”

They both smile for the photo. He thinks they must look quite the odd pair, Arthur in his three-piece suit, the penguins in tuxedos, and Eames in board shorts and a tank top. He kind of regrets not dressing a little better today. Ah, oh well. It’s just memorialized forever, no big deal.

“They’re in love, Uncle Arthur.” Pippa exclaims. “See!”

Pippa drags Arthur closer to look at the penguins snuggling up together. Eames slowly moves away. 

The penguins are touching each other softly, one’s beak resting against the other’s head. It’s a sweet sight.

“Did you know penguins mate for life, Uncle Arthur?”

“Do they now? Interesting fact, thank you Phillipa.”

“Some humans do too. I read it in a book in school.”

“Uncle Arthur?”

“Yes, Phillipa?”

“I think you and Uncle Eames should be like the penguins. Not like how mommy and daddy were.”

Arthur just stands there, not moving, nor saying anything. Collecting his thoughts it seems.

“You’ll have a happy ending, I know it.”

“Oh Phillipa, we will always try to make it back home to you. Both of us.”

“So you’ll get together?”

“These are grown up things. I’ll have to talk to Mr. Eames first. See what he wants.”

“Oh, he will agree. I know he will. He’s always loved you.”

Phillips runs off to the house, leaving Arthur and Eames left standing there, trying not to look at each other. 

Eames flushes the reddest shade possible. Bloody hell, figured out by an eight year old. Eames is doomed. 

***

“You know this whole thing was a setup, right?” Eames asks.

Arthur is still facing the penguins, watching the two of them play. Eames is half turned toward Arthur, body language tense, short fingernails digging into the palms of his skin.

Waiting. Wanting. Not knowing what Arthur is going to think once Eames admits what is actually happening here.

“Pippa trying to get her two uncles together,” Eames continues.

Arthur thinks he can keep it together. It’s just a little meddling by a sweet little girl.

“Arthur, I have to tell you I’ve –” Eames doesn’t get to finish his thought, Arthur huffs out a breath, mouth turned down.

No. Nope. Can’t.

He walks away.

And there goes Eames’ heart.

He was so sure something would happen, some magical moment, like in films, where Arthur would realize after all this time that what they were to each other could be more.

Has been more for a lot longer than either of them wanted to acknowledge.

But alas, the walk out.

Eames can’t say he never saw that coming. It’s too close to many of his dreams of Eames revealing his love for Arthur and how those always end with a shattered heart.

Arthur goes off somewhere, possibly even having left entirely, although probably not before saying goodbye to James and Phillipa. But he is nowhere near the penguins or Eames. Eames watches the penguins splash back and forth, cute little flippers swooshing in the tiny bit of water. The Arthur penguin looks like it’s having fun, bopping the Eames penguin on the beak with his flipper.

Eames smiles, despondently. 

He watches the penguins for a few minutes. The playful way they are with each other, the obvious teasing, and the care to which each of them shows the other. He thinks he knows now why Pippa thought of Arthur and him when watching the penguins.

At least he knows why Pippa thought of him. He acts a right fool around Arthur, always with a smitten look on his face.

It’s like looking in a very weird mirror.

But Arthur. Maybe Pippa is right and Arthur just needs a bit of a nudge. Eames has always been able to find Arthur. Why stop now?

Therefore, he decides to go find his Arthur.

***

Arthur needs a moment. A moment away from all of this.

All of this reminds Arthur of Mal. Too much of Mal.

He needs to get out of there.

And fast.

He picks a direction and starts walking, uncaring if his loafers get full of sand.

Mal.

So lovely.

And such a good friend to Arthur.

Always trying to give him the life she thought he deserved. One with magic and dreams, and a love that could weather anything the world threw at it. A long love to span worlds, and diverse interests, and dreams.

The calm sway of the waves and the crisp saltiness that coats the back of his throat all bring Arthur back to a peaceful state. His brisk, impatient walk along the sea has now turned into a languid meander, loafers and socks discarded over his shoulder, jacket long ago removed after dinner and sitting safely in Cobb’s front closet.

The dry sand feels coarse between Arthur’s toes, the little bits of seashell and other fragments of ocean detritus making the journey feel so much more real. 

It’s nice.

A breathtaking sunset about to start. An idyllic backdrop to end the day.

And maybe the start of something that has been idle too long.

He waits for Eames to come find him.

Eames always finds him - because Arthur never really tries to hide all that well from him.

***

It takes less time than Arthur thought before Eames is walking beside him.

“Eames,” Arthur acknowledges without turning his head.

“Arthur,” Eames’ voice is soft, almost timid.

“You came.”

“Of course I did, darling. You always make it so I can find you,” Eames mentions, like a secret.

“I know.”

“Is it too early to ask – but what was that before? Why’d you run off, Arthur?”

“Because of Mal.”

“Mal?”

“You remember her like she was before, right? In the beginning? The wonder in her eyes every time we talked of dreams?” Arthur stops, turning towards Eames.

“Yes, of course. The first time we spoke, she told me dreams would change my life. Never knew what she meant until Paris.”

Eames looks into Arthur’s eyes.

“She was the best friend anyone could’ve had.” Arthur replies, softly. “My best friend.”

A cloud of misery comes over his face. “Until…well you know the rest.”

“Still can’t believe Cobb actually explained what happened during inception, what happened with Mal,” Eames remarks, a tension overtaking his features.

Arthur hums gently, collecting his thoughts.

“Between Saito and Ari I don’t think he had much choice. Plus, we _deserved_ to know, risking all our lives like that.”

“I don’t disagree. Wouldn’t be here if I did.” Eames responds. “So…Mal?”

“Yes, right. She tried to set us up on that job.”

“The first Denmark job?”

“What?” No!”

“No, not that job Eames.”

“The first one the three of us without –?”

“Oh Paris!” Eames exclaims.

“Yes, Paris.” 

“Mal tried to set us up that entire job. She wasn’t exactly being discreet about it either.”

“No, love, she just wanted me to get in your pants. Thought we’d get rid of some of that sexual tension before the job.”

Arthur makes a face.

“Yes, yes we both know you can do a job with a gunshot wound and a knife for backup. But Mal always had the right idea if the wrong tack.”

“Yes, maybe that was all in Paris.”

“And I’m glad I didn’t, Arthur, you’d of never of trusted me on a job again if that had happened.”

“You never know, Mr. Eames.” Arthur smirks.

He doesn’t really mean it. And Eames knows that. The Arthur back then would never have let business mix with pleasure. Hell, the Arthur now so rarely does it’s a surprise they’re even having this conversation.

Arthur pauses, quiet in a way he hasn’t been this entire day.

“But in Norway, that time she meant it for real.” Arthur responds, timidly.

“She told me once that I’d met my la vie et la joie.”

Eames takes a moment, translating in his head.

“It means my ‘life and joy’,” Arthur answers anyway. 

“I always thought she meant dreamsharing, you know - but maybe she meant this.”

Arthur points between them.

“Us.”

Eames looks melancholy. He isn’t hiding anything right now and Arthur can only be thankful for the honesty.

“That was years ago, Arthur.”

“I know.”

“I know.” Arthur stands there, mute, lost in thought.

Silence from Arthur and Eames both. It’s not a nice silence.

“I just couldn’t – Eames what if I was wrong?”

“You’re never wrong, pet.”

“I could’ve been.”

“I’ve been half in love with you since New York.”

“And the other half the first time you told me you were impressed with my idea for the LA job, the first one.”

“Those were only a few weeks apart, Eames.”

“I know.” Eames smiles bashfully.

“Trust me, darling, you aren’t wrong. You weren’t then and you aren’t now.”

“That was years ago, Eames.”

Eames just shrugs, a little downturn to his mouth making his face seem so sad.

“Nothing has changed for me. You’re still it, Arthur.”

“I’m sorry, Eames. I should have listened.”

“Don’t be sorry, darling. Give us a chance?”

Arthur crowds into Eames’ space, until their chests are touching. Eames does not back away. Arthur leans in, lips to his ear.

“Yes.”

Eames’ arms come around Arthur’s lean torso, pulling him in tighter to his body. Arthur lets himself wrap around Eames’ frame, keeping the forger from being able to part them.

“I love you, darling.”

“Je t'aime ma vie et ma joie, Mr. Eames.”

They hold each other desperately, savoring the moment.

Arthur leans in for a kiss. The sunsets behind them. It’s a magical moment for magical people. And the most magical part is that it’s not in a dream.

The kiss seems to last ages but is really barely a minute. It’s nice and chaste and just a display confirming what they feel for one another.

“We’re never going to live this down. Together because of two stolen penguins and an eight year old.”

“I think it’s a fabulous story to tell our children, Mr. Eames.”

Arthur goes running off down the beach, laughing, and smiling wide enough to show his dimples and the crinkles by his eyes.

“Children?”

“What?”

“Arthur!”

Eames goes running after him laughing.


End file.
